American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

Chapter 704 The Final Connection Code!

Carmela fell silent. She knew he wasn't exaggerating; he was stating the truth. If Lynn and the federal system hadn't intervened in time last night, Matteo would either be in some unknown warehouse being used as a 'target', or lying somewhere else, and no one knew if he would ever wake up again.

She slowly tightened her grip on the coat in her hand and gave a soft "hmm".

After the examination, the medical officer provided a brief conclusion: the induced crystallization response was within the trainable window, and no large-scale irreversible tissue changes had yet occurred. However, the individual was sensitive to emotional triggers and had unstable thresholds for force output, requiring immediate systematic control training. The report was quickly sent to X Academy via internal interfaces, and by evening, they had received confirmation of receipt.

When the news arrived, Matteo was leaning against the dormitory door eating a piping hot plate of spaghetti. He almost choked when he heard the news: "So fast?"

Jason happened to come over to deliver some documents and handed the receipt to Lynn, not forgetting to make a sarcastic remark: "It means that after looking at your data, they think that if they don't take you over soon, New York might have one more shiny demolition worker."

"Get out." Matteo glared at him.

Jason smiled broadly, then handed Lynn another official waybill: "The car will be waiting in the underpass at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. The academy has arranged for a first-class escort."

"I know," Lynn said, taking it.

Carmela looked at the reply slip and suddenly felt a real sense that things were about to move forward. She had initially thought this might just be a direction, a suggestion to be discussed later, but now even the time had been set—seven o'clock tomorrow morning. In other words, after tonight, Matteo would really be leaving New York for a place she had never seen before, a place whose name she had only read about in a few pages of internal instructions.

"So urgent..." she whispered.

Matteo glanced at her, his previously bright expression pausing for a moment: "If you think it's too fast—"

“I didn’t say no,” Carmela said immediately, then softened her tone, “I just… need a little time to get used to this actually happening.”

Matteo didn't take any more; he simply put the fork back in the lunchbox and slowly sat up straighter.

As evening approached, the dormitory area of ​​the branch campus was unusually filled with the atmosphere of "packing luggage".

Matteo initially thought he didn't have much to bring, but when he actually started rummaging through the items, he found quite a few odds and ends. There was an old black jacket, a pair of worn-out shoes that he insisted "felt good to walk on," an old comic book with curled-up edges, two cheap trinkets he'd stuffed deep in a drawer, and a crumpled convenience store photo—in which Carmela was wearing work clothes, her hair haphazardly tied up, while Matteo stood beside her, looking grumpy, clearly having been dragged into the photo.

When Carmela came across the photo, she paused for a moment, then looked up at him: "You actually kept this?"

Matteo's ears turned red again: "That's not mine, it fell out by itself."

"Oh, the photos will hide in your book by themselves."

Why are you so annoying today?

"I learned it from you."

Lynn stood at the door, arms crossed, watching them pack, unusually refraining from urging them. The dormitory room was warmer, unlike other areas of the branch campus. Several clothes were spread out on the bed, and a brief welcome message from the academy sat on the table. Matteo glanced at each item he picked up, as if seriously imagining for the first time that he was about to leave this neighborhood, this building, and this chaotic past.

"Can I bring this?" he asked, holding up the old comic book.

Lynn glanced at it: "Yes."

"What about this one?" He held up a small metal car model with chipped paint on the edge.

"can."

"Then this one—"

“No.” Lynn and Carmela said almost simultaneously.

Matteo, holding up half a folding knife, looked speechless: "Did you two conspire together?"

“No.” Carmela snatched the knife from his hand and snapped it shut. “But this thing will stay here.”

Matteo snorted, but didn't actually snatch it back.

As they tidied up, the room gradually quieted down. Carmela folded his clothes one by one, her movements practiced and familiar, just like many years ago when they were still crammed into a small apartment. Matteo stood beside her, watching her put the black coat into her bag as well, and suddenly whispered, "Don't fold it too neatly."

"why?"

"This doesn't look like mine."

Carmela almost burst out laughing: "You're going to the academy, not a garbage dump."

"There's no need to make me a model student all at once."

"You can't be one either."

"sister--"

"Did I say something wrong?" Carmela finally smiled. "Someone like you, the first thing you do when you go in is ask where you can train and where you can fight."

Matteo instinctively retorted, "I'm not that—"

He was speaking when he suddenly remembered that the first thing he did at noon was ask about the practical training and combat, and he choked on his words. Carmela looked at his expression and her smile deepened. Even Lynn, leaning against the door, had a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

For a fleeting moment, the air in the room felt so light and refreshing, as if it were from a completely different world than the night before.

Jason also came to dinner that evening, ostensibly to deliver the academy's final connection code, but clearly there to join in the fun and say goodbye. He put his plate on the table and said to Matteo, "Don't think you'll be untouchable over there. The academy will send us evaluations regularly."

Matteo immediately became alert: "You're still monitoring me?"

“Don’t put it so harshly, call it dynamic tracking,” Jason said seriously.

"It sounds even worse."

"Then let's change the wording: keep an eye on it."

Can you shut up?

“No.” Jason took a sip of soup with a cheerful expression, then turned to look at Carmela. “Don’t worry, things are much more organized over there than this kid thinks. At least no one will make him carry black bags.”

Carmela nodded, but couldn't help asking, "Are there many like him in the academy?"

“That’s enough,” Jason said. “Some kids’ abilities just start to emerge when they’re twelve or thirteen and their families have no idea what to do; some only start to get out of control in college; and then there are kids like him, whose abilities are stimulated and brought out by external factors. To be honest, the FBI and the academy have cooperated quite a bit over the years.”

Matteo immediately seized on the key point: "So a lot of people really came out from over there and came into your area?"

Jason glanced at him: "Yes. But don't rush to think of yourself as the protagonist of a spy movie."

"I do not have."

“Your face is already acting,” Jason said. “And let me remind you, mutant special agents sound cool, but in reality, there are all the paperwork, reports, probation periods, regulations, and prohibitions. If you really stay, the first thing you'll probably learn isn't how to show off your abilities, but how to write a thirty-page operation log without swearing.”

Matteo looked like he'd been doused with cold water: "How can you make something that sounds so amazing sound so boring?"

“Because it will be a really boring part,” Lynn finally said. “If you can handle that part, then we can talk about the rest.”

Matteo snorted in protest, but he stopped daydreaming too much.

After dinner, night gradually fell. The branch office lights were more even and calmer than during the day. Carmela accompanied Matteo back to the dormitory area, while Lynn went to handle the last few handover documents. When he returned, it was almost ten o'clock.

The corridor was much quieter; the detectives on duty had switched to the night shift. Carmela sat on the bench outside the door, clutching her bag on her lap, as if she had been waiting for him. When he approached, she stood up first.

"Is he asleep?" Lynn asked.

"Not yet," Carmela said softly. "I just finished showering and am lying down pretending to be asleep." "Mm."

The two stood side by side in the corridor, neither speaking for a moment. The sound of the air conditioner whirring in the distance was faint, and only the blurry lights of the city night could be seen outside the window. After a while, Carmela suddenly asked, "Are you really going to drive him there yourself tomorrow?"

"Correct."

"Will you see him to the door, or watch him go inside?"

“Until the handover is complete,” Lynn said.

Carmela nodded, as if silently reaffirming the words in her mind. After a few seconds, she asked softly, "Why are you willing to go to such lengths for him?"

Lynn looked at her: "Do you want to hear the official version or the truth?"

"truth."

“To be honest, I’ve seen too many marginalized people like him.” Lynn leaned against the wall, his voice low. “Some people could clearly be salvaged, but in the end, no one is willing to take that extra step. It’s not that no one knows what to do, it’s that everyone finds it too troublesome, or thinks, ‘He’s already caused trouble himself.’ I don’t like that kind of ending.”

Carmela listened quietly without interrupting.

“And,” Lynn paused, “he will listen to me now.”

The words were simple, yet sincere. Carmela turned her head to look at him, and suddenly smiled softly.

“He’s right,” she said.

"what?"

“You’re really bad at saying nice things,” she said, looking at the light at the end of the corridor. “But most of the time, you get right to the point.”

Lynn didn't answer, but simply asked, "Are you still worried?"

Carmela was silent for a while before nodding. "Worried. Still worried." Her voice was very soft. "Even though I know this is a road, I'm still worried. I'm afraid he'll get hurt over there, afraid he won't adapt, afraid he'll be reckless again, afraid that one day he'll really wear one of those coats and do something as dangerous as last night."

“All of this is normal,” Lynn said.

“But I’m not as eager to stop him as I was this morning.” Carmela looked down at her fingers. “I thought about it for a long time afterward. You’re right, if I only let him see danger, he’ll just start thinking about other things. At least this time, he spoke to me, and he walked in a place where you can keep an eye on him.”

She took a breath and then slowly exhaled.

“And,” she said, “for the first time today, I felt that he was really thinking about what kind of person he wanted to become.”

After she finished speaking, the corridor fell silent for a moment. Lynn followed her gaze to the door; everything inside was quiet and still.

“That’s not a bad thing,” he said.

“I know.” Carmela nodded, then turned to look at him. “Come and wake me up before you leave tomorrow. I don’t want him to wake up to find me standing by the car crying, which would be embarrassing.”

"You're already imagining the worst-case scenario."

“It’s an occupational hazard for nurses,” Carmela said. “They always think of the worst-case scenario first.”

“Then think of another one.” Lynn looked at her. “Maybe he will figure things out there.”

Carmela paused for a moment, then chuckled softly: "That sounds like a consolation."

"Don't praise too quickly."

"I'm just telling the truth."

As the night deepened, the dormitory area finally fell truly quiet. Carmela returned to her room, and Lynn managed to get a couple of hours of sleep in the duty break room. Just as dawn broke, all the lights in the branch's underground passage were already on. The 7 o'clock bus was waiting at the exit precisely on time; it was a dark SUV without any markings, its body spotlessly clean, and the back seats and storage compartments emptied.

When Lynn went to call Matteo, the kid had clearly not slept very well all night. He woke up after only two knocks on the door, his hair a mess as if he had been struck by lightning, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.

What time is it?

"It's almost seven o'clock."

"Let's go now?"

"Let's go now." Lynn glanced at his already packed bag. "Ready?"

Matteo picked up his backpack and swung the strap up: "It's been ready for a while."

After saying that, he paused, glancing past Lynn towards the other end of the corridor: "Where's my sister?"

“Wait by the car,” Lynn said.

Matteo paused for a moment, then clicked his tongue: "She really gets up this early."

"She barely slept last night."

Matteo said nothing more, simply slung his bag over his shoulder, and followed Lynn outside. The corridor was quiet in the early morning, the sky outside still tinged with gray-blue. As they passed the corner one after the other, the on-duty agent nodded to them. Matteo's pace wasn't slow, but it was clearly not his usual reckless stride; rather, with each step, he seemed to be increasingly aware: this time it's for real.

Carmela was already there at the entrance to the underpass. She had changed back into her coat, her hair was neatly tied up, and her face was bare of makeup, making her look a little pale, but she tried her best to stand steadily. There was a small paper bag at her feet, as if she had temporarily packed something in it.

As soon as Matteo saw her, his previously brisk steps slowed down.

"How come you're faster than us?" he whispered.

“Because I know you’ll deliberately dawdle for thirty seconds,” Carmela said.

"I didn't."

"You have it now."

Matteo was speechless, and could only sling his bag over his shoulder again. The early morning air echoed in the underpass, carrying a faint smell of an empty garage. The white overhead lights cast long shadows of the three figures.

Carmela handed him the paper bag first: "Eat this on the way."

Matteo took it, opened it, and glanced inside. There were two still-warm sandwiches, a small box of cut fruit, and a thermos. He looked up: "What time did you get up to make this?"

"Never mind that."

"You didn't really stay up all night, did you?"

"I told you to leave it alone." Carmela glared at him, but her eyes were already a little red, so she quickly looked away. "Also, don't leave your clothes lying around, listen to the test results, don't stay up too late at night, and don't push yourself too hard during training."

"You've said so much, I can't remember it all."

"Then record it."

"sister--"

“And,” Carmela took a breath, trying to keep her tone normal, “if anyone bullies you, say so immediately. Don’t pretend you can do anything.” (End of Chapter)